


Just a sweet sunny piece of you

by xiamer



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Enjolras and Cosette Fauchelevent are Siblings, F/F, Gen, M/M, One Shot, i refuse to tag all of them, its shocking i know, me ?? writing a non-angsty one shot ???, the barricade boys probably don’t teach the subject you’re expecting tbh, they always are for me, unless explicitly stated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiamer/pseuds/xiamer
Summary: It was 15h30 on a Wednesday when the door to M. Courfeyrac’s art room slammed open, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence.Enjolras stood looming in his doorway. His head was drenched in glitter and different neon colours of paint were dripping from his scalp down each golden strand of hair.Title is from “Send me a peach” from Over The Garden Wall
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Just a sweet sunny piece of you

**Author's Note:**

> someone PLEASE come over and hit me with a newspaper, because i really need someone to sit me down and say “eleanor finish your fucking WIPs before writing a whole different story”
> 
> but me ?????? writing a one shot that isn’t ANGST ?? 
> 
> yeah don’t get too used to that 
> 
> but okay, in case you guys didn’t know, im American, and ik it probably doesn’t seem like that based on the online presence ive made, but yeah im from Massachusetts and i do NOT understand IB classes so sorry if the references dont make sense at ALL
> 
> i love teacher aus so much, so basically all of my writing is literally so self indulgent, because this fandom does not do the stuff i write about enough-
> 
> not enough group chat fics, not enough teacher stuff, not enough enjol-angst because i love him but i really need to hurt him 
> 
> anyway
> 
> i hope you enjoy, and this got dangerously close to the realm of fluff, which is strange for someone who just does not do that

It was 15h30 on a Wednesday when the door to M. Courfeyrac’s art room slammed open, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence. Courfeyrac looked up, mildly annoyed but froze when he saw M. Enjolras, who taught everything from Mathematical Studies SL to Further Mathematics HL. Enjolras and Courfeyrac had known eachother since childhood, and they made up two thirds of the infamous Triumvirate of Lycée Myriel. 

But that fact would do nothing for him in this situation, as Enjolras stood looming in his doorway. His head was drenched in glitter and different neon colours of paint were dripping from his scalp down each golden strand of hair. There were big globs of blues and yellows falling onto, and staining, his formerly crisp white button down. All that would make any other person seem ridiculous, but Enjolras looked downright murderous. 

“Mathieu,” he grit out, through clenched teeth, “a word, if you will?”

Courfeyrac shot a terrified look at his students before muttering a quiet affirmation and shut the door behind him as he walked out. Before Enjolras could even say anything, Courfeyrac burst out in a panicked voice-

“Okay I’m sorry but Grantaire encouraged it and I thought it would be a funny prank and I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise that there would be so much. Please don’t kill me I’m sorry.”

By the end of it, Courfeyrac had fallen to his knees and was practically begging for his life. Enjolras looked even more pissed, but slightly amused at the same time. 

“Well I was going to ask you who did it but I guess you answered that,” a smirk formed on his lips, “I’d suggest you go back to your students before I actually think about killing you.”

“Yessir!”

And with that, Courfeyrac turned on his heel and all but sprinted back into his classroom. When he runs in and shuts his door, all of his students turn to look at him. 

“What was that about, M. Courfeyrac?”

Courfeyrac offers a crooked grin. 

“I’ve learned that if need be, I can beg for my life.”

That caused a wave of laughter to go through the class, and all of the students turned back to their easels as Courfeyrac leaned back at his desk, working on his own art project. 

A few moments later he snapped back up and lunged for his phone, earning a few startled looks from his students. 

**Courfey-racks-on-racks** : do u have a class rn ???

It took less than 20 seconds for a response. 

**R** : uh no ?

**R** : whats up

**Courfey-racks-on-racks** : barricade ur fucking door

**R** : why ?????

**Courfey-racks-on-racks** : Archangel Gabriel is on his way over rn and hes currently covered in glitter and paint

**R** : you sold me out ??

**Courfey-racks-on-racks** : he cornered me !!

**Courfey-racks-on-racks** : i thought he already knew so i grovelled for my life !!!

**R** : fuck fuck FUCK

**R** : i can hear him 

There were no more responses after that and Courfeyrac looked up to see his students looking at him in concern. Which was impressive, given the fact that his room was set up in a horseshoe shape, meaning everyone in the back was facing the wall,but had all swivelled to see him. 

“Nothing to worry about guys. But, euh, if you see M. Grantaire anytime soon, tell him I’m so sorry.”

Before anyone could respond, the bell rung and his Advanced Art class filed out of the room and towards the hallway. Courfeyrac sighed and slumped in his chair. He was only 25 but he felt 50. 

A knock on the doorframe brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see M. Combeferre standing there, currently donning the appearance of a total mad scientist. 

Along with hair that was only comparable to a rat’s nest, Combeferre was sporting a singed eyebrow, and a smoke stained lab coat and glasses. 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and Combeferre’s face broke into a grin. 

“We had a bit of an… accident. In the chem lab.”

“Yeah I can see. 

“Musain time?”

“Marry me.”

Combeferre chuckles. 

“Already did.”

They walk out together, and as Courfeyrac was turning and locking the door, he felt someone run up and grab him from behind. Courfeyrac yelped as he felt himself being lifted completely off the ground and thrown over someone’s shoulder. 

“Bahorel! Put him down!”

That was M. Feuilly shouting at M. Bahorel. Despite being upside down, Courfeyrac could see Feuilly running towards him, still covered in the day’s sawdust from his woodworking class. 

“Bahorel, I am definitely too close to your ass right now, and I really don’t like the gym teacher short-shorts.”

Feuilly snorted and grumbled, “well I do.”

Bahorel laughed, long and loud, and flipped Courfeyrac around, safely depositing him into Combeferre’s arms. Combeferre looked far too pleased about the turn of events than he had any right to be, but Courfeyrac didn’t make any move to force himself down. 

The moment was broken, however, when righteous fury personified came storming down the hallway. Still covered completely in a mix of paint and glitter, Enjolras came to a halt in front of Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Combeferre reluctantly set Courfeyrac on the ground, and Enjolras immediately stepped closer. 

However, to everyone’s complete surprise, Enjolras pulled out no sort of weapon. Instead, he grabbed Courfeyrac into a stiff hug, making sure to get as much of the paint and glitter on him as possible. Courfeyrac made a noise that was both affronted and confused and Enjolras pulled back after a few awkward moments. 

“I’m naming my firstborn son after you,” he said. Then, turning to everyone else congregated there, “I’ll see you all at the Musain soon.”

And with one last sparkly turn, Enjolras was gone. 

Taking his place was Jehan, a small presence in comparison to the avenging angel that was Enjolras. The French literary teacher looked around and seemed just as confused as everyone else. 

“What even happened?”

Courfeyrac just looked helplessly at them. 

“Couldn’t answer if you put a gun to my head.”

Jehan frowns, but it doesn’t last for long. They clear their throat to address Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly. 

“Musain?”

Everyone murmurs in agreement and they start the trek there filled with quiet, friendly chatter. When they arrived, the five of them head to the backroom where Enjolras, M. Joly, M. Bossuet, Mme. Musichetta, and M. Marius were already gathered. Joly, the world’s jumpiest school nurse, was examining Bossuet for any signs of injury, loudly proclaiming that the school couldn’t bear to lose their best statistics teacher, whilst Musichetta looked on with the same small grin that she got whenever lecturing her students on the Bucket War. 

Marius was sat at a table, translating what appeared to be a Russian dictionary, into Spanish. Enjolras gave him one disappointed look before diving back into his laptop. He still had yet to change, and despite originally looking as angry as Juror 3, he now seemed unnervingly calm. 

Courfeyrac didn’t have much time to ponder this, as Mlle. Thénardier and Mlle. Fauchelevent came strolling in. Cosette took one look at her brother, and despite her and Éponine being counsellors who were taught to specifically not to laugh at people, they both burst into fits of giggles at the sight of Antinous Wild drenched in glitter. Everyone seemed to actually take notice of Enjolras’ condition and as soon as they did, and the entire backroom erupted into a wave of laughter. Enjolras looked directly at Courfeyrac with a glare that could stop a rhinoceros in its tracks. 

Bahorel clapped him on the shoulder and asked-

“Now now, fearless leader, what happened to you?”

“A certain two people, who will remain anonymous,” he shot another icy look to Courfeyrac, “decided to rig up my classroom door with buckets of paint and glitter. As soon as I opened the door I was drenched in it. So really we should be asking Cour-“

He was cut off by Grantaire stumbling through the door with a music folder with enough stray music in it to make up the entirety of Lycée Myriel’s collection. He dropped in on a table and grinned. 

“What’d I miss?”

Jehan was staring at his hands. Hands that were covered in glitter and paint, much the same as the type currently adorning the entirety of Enjolras. Enjolras, who also seemed to notice this, very quickly tried to run but was just as quickly grabbed by Bahorel and thrown into a fireman’s carry. 

Jehan was cackling, Enjolras was flushing, be it from embarrassment or his physical position, we don’t know, and Grantaire had a gleam in his eye. Courfeyrac, who hated being out of the centre of gossip, petulantly stomped his foot. 

“What is it?”

“Bahorel please put me down.”

“No can do chief. Not until you tell us exactly what you did after getting drenched.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” Enjolras muttered. 

Cosette’s eyes widened. 

“Ew! Did you do it IN school?”

Grantaire doubled over in laughter and Enjolras went even redder. 

Suddenly everything clicked in Courfeyrac’s head. 

“I AM THE MATCHMAKER SUPREME. YOU,” he whirled on Enjolras, “ARE HONOURING YOUR EARLIER STATEMENT.”

It was Grantaire’s turn to face Enjolras. 

“And what exactly was your statement?”

“I may have told him that I’m naming my firstborn son after him.”

Marius lifted his head up. 

“Why would you do that?”

Courfeyrac danced towards Marius. 

“Because, my darling linguistic friend, I’m the one who came up with the prank to get the glitter and paint on dear old Enjy-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Dear old _Julien_ in the first place. Grantaire helped, but it was me selling him out that caused this,” Courfeyrac lifted Grantaire’s hand up, both men smirking as a gasp passed through the room, “to happen.”

By that point even Marius, the most oblivious person on the entire planet had figured out what had happened. 

“You two DIDN’T.”

“In the school?”

“Fuck, I just lost about 20€ to Combeferre.”

Combeferre smoothly interrupted with a small cough. 

“Actually, I believe everyone here owes about 20€ to me. So if you could all kindly pay up, that would be appreciated.”

Combeferre held his hand out as each individual person, with the exception of Enjolras and Grantaire themselves, pressed a crisp 20€ note into it. 

In the time it took everyone to settle back down, Enjolras had perched on Grantaire’s lap as the latter was pushing glitter covered hands through the former’s hair. Éponine saw and mimed gagging, to which Enjolras responded by flipping her off.

Everyone had laid down somewhere with their significant other, excluding Marius who was still valiantly translating the dictionary, and Jehan who stretched themself across Éponine and Cosette’s laps. 

Combeferre started playing with Courfeyrac’s hair, as he curled into Combeferre on the sofa. Quietly chuckling and pressing a quick kiss to his brow, Combeferre then turned to respond to a question posed by Enjolras, who still managed to keep a straight face, even when sitting in Grantaire’s lap. 

Courfeyrac looked out around the room. Cosette had her head on Éponine’s shoulder, who was stroking Jehan’s hair. Joly was still ranting and raving over Bossuet’s “injuries” as Musichetta looked on. Feuilly was having an animated discussion with Bahorel, who was trying to drag an awkward Marius into the conversation. 

Combeferre and Enjolras were still discussing upcoming events, and Courfeyrac noticed Grantaire looking at Enjolras with nothing but utter devotion. Enjolras turned his head, and upon noticing Grantaire’s expression, wrinkled his nose and gave him a peck on the lips. Courfeyrac cooed at this, and Enjolras flushed before trying to pick up conversation with Combeferre again. 

Combeferre, who was warm, sweet, and Courfeyrac’s husband. His favourite person to ever exist, who was currently making the most boring topic on the planet fascinating. 

Courfeyrac shifted closer and sighed contentedly. Yeah, he could live with this. 

**Author's Note:**

> like it ? love it ? hate it ? im just glad you read it !!
> 
> in case you were wondering the subjects they teach
> 
> Courfeyrac- visual arts  
> Combeferre- chem and physics  
> Enjolras- just… math, yup all the math  
> Grantaire- band/orchestra  
> Feuilly- like a shop/engineering class, we have those at my high school i think, but im too afraid to figure out for sure  
> Bahorel- gym  
> Bossuet- stats because i thought it’d be funny with his luck to figure out the probability of all the bad stuff happening  
> Musichetta- both ancient and modern world history  
> Marius- head of the language department  
> Jehan- literature and creative writing because i think that’s a class  
> Éponine and Cosette- guidance counsellors  
> Joly- school nurse 
> 
> oh boy can you catch all the references i put in ?
> 
> (i love 12 angry men so much)
> 
> ((bonus points if you understand their texting names lol))
> 
> i honestly just had fun with this one, but i seriously need someone to lecture me about finishing other fics
> 
> i swear ill update the first one soon, ill give you a part 4 on “those who do not weep do not see” and i have another  
> Enjol-angst coming up soon i SWEAR
> 
> -el <3


End file.
